


Tīmata

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5255156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin enjoys the morning view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tīmata

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “It can be a comfort thing, a possession thing, or what-have-you. Once they get together, Bilbo only sleeps in Thorin's shirts” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/14338.html?thread=26395138#t26395138).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He wakes in a sort of groggy in-between state, only half aware he’s conscious. He spends about a second trying to puzzle out what dragged him out of his dream, which now he’s only distantly attached to, and then he realizes his throat’s parched and his mouth will go dry. 

He squirms out of the bed and blankets with his eyes shut as long as he can, but they always forget to close the curtains all the way and the morning light still flutters in through the window. Bag End has small, round things, but they’re bigger than a mountain’s windows would bee. Bigger than what he grew up with, smaller than what he’s grown accustomed to in other villages. Bag End’s a hodge-podge of things like that. 

He still keeps blinking his eyes closed as he lumbers to the kitchen. He tries to be quiet, tries to be courteous, but he winds up walking right into one curved doorframe while his knuckles are rubbing at his face. Then he pauses to yawn, straightens out properly, and makes a better go to the sink. His favourite mug’s sitting out for him—made out of clay by Fíli when he was little with Kíli’s childish painting of a raven. Thorin uses it so often that Bilbo doesn’t bother to put it away anymore. Thorin pauses at the sink for his first sip, savouring the clear taste, then stifles another yawn and turns; his bed’s calling to him. His _Bilbo’s_ calling to him. 

The room’s just how he left it, Bilbo undisturbed and sleeping beautifully, curled up on his side next to Thorin’s indent. The blankets have been peeled half away from Thorin’s thoughtless rustling. It shows off a good chunk of Bilbo’s plump body, buried in an oversized tunic of deep maroon. The sight gives Thorin a smile, just like it always does. As long as they’ve been together, Bilbo only sleeps in his shirts, which on Bilbo are long enough to be nightgowns. At least, they cover the top of his thighs. The rest of his hairy legs are bare for Thorin to soak in, and he has to work to resist the urge to idly stroke along Bilbo’s soft skin. 

The sweetness of Bilbo’s sleeping face, the smell of him, raw and a little musky from last night, and the sound of his gentle breath void all of Thorin’s will to sleep. He’d rather be awake to enjoy this, so he sits and drinks his water in slow, languid sips, until he just can’t hold himself back anymore. 

Then he drops one hand to trace the elegant curve of Bilbo’s leg, and just as his thick fingers reach the hem, Bilbo shifts and lets out a sudden yawn. Thorin stills, but it’s too late. Bilbo flexes his body and his eyes flutter half open, sliding instantly to Thorin. When they close again, there’s a smile on Bilbo’s lips, and he murmurs sleepily, “What is it?”

Thorin gives the hem a gently tug and teases, “I was just getting my shirt back.”

Bilbo’s nose wrinkles—one of his more curious habits that always makes Thorin get at least one butterfly in his stomach, because it’s so uniquely _Bilbo_. Around another yawn, Bilbo mumbles, “But then how will people know that I’m yours?”

Thorin snorts, biting back his laugh. He doesn’t want to wake Bilbo up too much, because Bilbo’s so _cute_ like this. So Thorin just leans down to place a tender kiss to the pointed tip of his ear, which makes Bilbo grin broadly and sigh, “Are you coming back to bed?”

A firedrake couldn’t keep Thorin away. He puts his mug down on the nightstand and lies back along his place, already tugging the blankets over himself. Bilbo automatically snuggles up to him, and Thorin holds him back, purring into Bilbo’s honey curls, “I have to in order to mark you in other ways, so I can get my shirt back.” Bilbo laughs, but still meets him for the next kiss. Thorin wants to promise he’ll give it right back when he’s done, but by then he has his arms full, and the morning’s already wasting away.


End file.
